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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983498">Heaven Is A Person, Not A Place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge'>HoneyGrunge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Supernatural Elements, Tragic Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:09:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is finally dead. Joker is expected to be happy, but he feels as though he's lost his anchor. Based on Batman: Damned.</p><p>NOTE: Tag subject to change to explicit depending on how much violence I end up adding, and this will obviously contain upsetting material. Specific triggers will be tagged in the summary of each chapter!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Batjokes - Relationship, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really loved the Batman: Damned series and wanted to write some batjokes for it. To make my fic make sense, here's my interpretation of the comic: Joker died on the bridge, and Bruce was injured to the point of lingering on life support. His soul was in some sort of purgatory/limbo while he was on life support, thanks to Enchantress' connection with him and John's efforts. When Bruce said that he wished Joker was still alive while in limbo, Enchantress decided to grant that as a final wish to feed on Joker’s destruction before letting Bruce pass on, since she couldn’t get anything out of him anymore. This resulted in Bruce going to hell because John Constantine didn't have enough time to help him repent.</p><p>Also, I know the version of Joker in Damned is the one with the scarred face but I'm keep descriptions vague so peeps can envision their favorite Joker.</p><p>Lastly, there will be Jarley in this, but it won't be the predominant relationship, so if you're here just for the batjokes please don't worry haha.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No matter how much rain fell in the cursed city of Gotham, it would never succeed in washing away the depression and grime. The blackened water flowing around Joker’s shoes and down into the rusty gutter was borderline poisonous; he shivered as a droplet ran down the back of his neck and soaked into the fabric of his weathered purple jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why am I here?” he grumbled, reaching up to rub at his forehead. He’d never had a headache this bad before. It felt as though something was trying to pierce through his skull from the inside, and the fact that he couldn’t remember the past 24 hours wasn’t helping things. If it had even been 24 hours; he'd lost his sense of time too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond man standing across from Joker lit a cigarette and took an indulgent puff, but he provided no answers. Joker glanced at him and squinted; he knew the face but he couldn’t quite pinpoint the name. His thoughts were blurred and distant, like empty reflections in a puddle, and every ripple sent them scattering beyond his reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t...I can’t...I can’t think,” Joker murmured. A neon sign flashed on across the street, forcing Joker to turn his head away because the light was stinging his overly sensitive eyes. The movement helped him realize that they were standing on a river’s walkway; </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>river’s walkway. That memory at least now became clear. Constantine watched with vague curiosity as Joker finally grasped the straw he was looking for and turned to stare at the bridge in bewilderment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna take a while until you can think straight, Jokes. Anyways, long story short, the Bat’s not going to be a problem for you anymore. Guess you can have your fun for a while until the next vigilante decides to take over. Congrats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” Joker said, turning back to face John. “What happened? How did I get here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John huffed out a laugh and roughly coughed, flicking his cigarette and shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I told ya it’d only make that crazy head of yours hurt more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker took a step forward and John faltered. The madman’s eyes were brighter now with the distinct edge of desperation and slowly dawning realization. John’s sweaty hand gripped tighter around the gun in his pocket. Despite the veritable miracle he’d witnessed, he had no qualms about putting the subject of said miracle back in the morgue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Batman?” Joker asked, still disoriented. He seemed afraid of the answer, preemptively cringing before John had even opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Bat is dead. Like I said, congrats.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tumblr and Twitter: @Maedhros36</p><p>I hope you enjoy the rest of the story! &lt;333</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Never Coming Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>CHAPTER TW // SUICIDAL IDEATION</p><p>Joker reunites with Harley and learns the hard facts about his predicament.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was really tired when I finished this so please ignore any typos lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Joker’s walk to the piers was indirect and confusing, primarily because he couldn’t remember where he was going, but also because no coherent thoughts could get past the torturous chant in his mind. His brain was an echo chamber of Constantine’s voice and it was driving him mad, mad enough to tear out chunks of his sodden hair in a desperate attempt to think clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>it rang, both triumphant and horrifying. He’d never thought this day would really come, and now that it was here he didn’t know what to do. Everything was upside down, too topsy turvy to focus, even when the fog in his head lifted to grant him a lucid moment. Eventually he gave up trying to arrange his thoughts and simply walked along the waterfront until he came to the more run-down part of town. The piers were always gloomy but tonight they were practically eldritch, and studying them made a chill run up Joker’s spine. He half expected the shallow waves to leap out of the water and drag him into their frigid, lonely depths. In fact, he even found himself desiring it as he wandered closer to the edge of the rotting wooden walkway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker couldn’t explain it, but he felt out of place, as if he had one foot in the grave and one foot in this world, and he knew it had something to do with Batman. His stomach plummeted as he toed the edge of an algae-encrusted support beam. What was stopping him now? Why had he hung on all these years, driven by his rivalry with the Bat?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never let himself think about the reason because he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge a desire that could never be fulfilled. Ignorance was bliss, as far as he was concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of a wail, carried to him on the wind from somewhere on his right. Awkwardly, he stumbled away from the promise of empty bliss and turned to face the direction of the noise: the source appeared to be a theme park that looked as though it had seen more death than lighthearted entertainment. Another noise rose on the wind, a sharp keen this time, and after a few moments of waiting for another he decided to take off towards the park. After all, the night was growing colder and the rain that had soaked through his clothing was now turning to ice under his ragged shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eerie shapes loomed in the darkness and Joker wondered if they were in his head or actually in this world. Perhaps it didn’t matter, because one thing he could remember clearly was the fact that he wasn’t a stranger to hallucinations. He’d come to accept the fact that whatever he saw was his own reality, unique to him and visible to nobody else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked he became more agitated. There was something on the edge of his awareness, something big that he was forgetting, something to do with his past that was still buried under his amnesia. It was important, he knew it was, but he simply couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it would have to wait, because he was finally standing in the gaping maw of a clown’s mouth that served as the entrance to whatever the hell it was that lurked within.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Puddinnnnnnn’,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>a voice sobbed from somewhere inside. Joker advanced, instinctively thumbing the switchblade he kept in his pocket for emergencies. The sobbing grew louder and Joker followed it deeper into the abandoned compound until he came to a foyer that led to a partially opened door. Slowly, he moved forward and nudged open the door, slipping inside undetected by a woman who was slumped on the king size bed bed. That’s when the memory struck him: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harleen Quinzel.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harley?” he called, confused at the display of theatrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her body tensed and the crying immediately ceased as if some invisible creature had garroted her. She whipped around and stared with wide eyes; Joker stared back, taking in the fact that he was looking at </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her hair was chopped short and dyed green, his makeup was mimicked on her flawless skin, and she was wearing his clothes, the same clothes he was wearing now. He didn’t recall having two pairs of the same coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley suddenly groaned in agony and buried her face back down into the velvety green blankets, clawing at her chest as if she was trying to tear out her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do I have to see you everywheeeeeere?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she cried, refusing to look up when his footsteps began to come closer. Baffled, Joker stopped a couple feet from her and cocked his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the long face? Honestly, Harley, you’ve gotta throw me a bone here, I mean I’ve had the weirdest goddamn night of my life and that Consta-whatsisname likes to be mysterious for no good reason,” he ranted, flopping his gloved hands against his sides and wincing when his head gave another throb. Harley’s crying had mostly subsided and she was now sitting up, staring at him as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hand shot out, reaching for him with a manic urgency that he’d never seen from her before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touch me,” she hissed, “so I know that you’re real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slippery uneasiness was churning in Joker’s stomach but he obliged, holding out his hand and tapping the back of hers gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? No ghosts here, my dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley screamed and launched herself off the bed, slamming into him and nearly bowling him over. She was in utter hysterics, babbling incoherently while Joker attempted in vain to pat her back and contain his own anxiety. He guided her over to the bed and sat her down, shaking her roughly in an attempt to snap her out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Harley! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Listen to me, I need you to focus. Just look at my face, that’s it. Could you please tell me what in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snivelling, Harley wiped her nose on her sleeve and shook her head in disbelief. She took a moment to find her voice and when she finally spoke, her tone was a spooked whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Puddin’, baby...I don’t know how else to say this, but...you’re dead. I mean, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>dead, but I guess you pulled a fast one on that dumb old bat, huh? It’s all over the news, about how Batman was really Bruce Wayne all this time. He died just under an hour ago in the hospital, he was on life support but his liver and heart failed. Look! I saved some newspaper clippings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley slipped off the bed and rustled about in the nightstand while Joker stood motionless, trying to make sense of it all. Perhaps this could be explained logically. He remembered the bridge, so he must have had a fight with Batman, fallen into the water, and passed out. Then he must’ve washed up on shore and...Constantine of all people had found him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t make sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley hurried back with the clippings and Joker snatched them from her, leaning closer to the lamp on the nightstand in order to read the smudged letters. It appeared that Harley had cried all over it and a couple paragraphs were almost completely destroyed. The headline read </span>
  <b>
    <em>“GOTHAM’S BELOVED PROTECTOR CLINGING TO LIFE” </em>
  </b>
  <span>and within it were two pictures, one of Batman and one of Bruce at a recent charity gala. Harley chewed a nail as she watched him; Joker noticed that she was holding another clipping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that one?” Joker asked, holding out his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley’s bottom lip trembled when she held it out for him. He took it and flipped it over, nearly pissing himself when he saw the headline.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME DEAD, BODY PULLED FROM RIVER”</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The article explained that Joker’s body was being held in the city morgue under maximum security and that the cause of death had been determined to be drowning; Batman had toppled over the edge with Joker after allegedly being brutally stabbed in the liver by Joker, as witnessed by a homeless citizen. Batman had floated in the river for too long and bled out within a hair’s breadth of his life, but he'd somehow still managed to swim to shore and be spotted by a civilian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How...that’s not, that’s not possible. That’s not possible,” Joker whispered with a panicked edge to his tone. “No, no, this must be a jo-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t a joke, Mistah J. I’d never hurt ya like that,” Harley whispered, leaning in to press a kiss into his pale cheek. He didn’t respond to the touch, he simply kept staring at the newspaper. “And it doesn’t matter if it’s impossible, Puddin’, cuz we’re together again now, and that’s all that matters. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Joker parroted back at her, not even grasping what she was saying. The disorientation was passing and now reality was seeping in. There were three truths that he knew so far, and he repeated them in his head as calmly as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One: he, Joker, had died, and then come back. Two: Batman was dead. And three: he would never see Batman again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” was all he could manage. “NO!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ripped apart the clipping and ran his hands through his hair, beginning to pace back and forth like a caged animal. Harley looked concerned but she was too afraid to touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you...happy that he’s gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean for it to end like this,” he hissed, eyes wide and unseeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley chewed her lip and crossed her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think maybe you’re just a little freaked ‘cuz you never expected to beat him. We oughta take your mind off of it. We should go out tonight and do somethin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker nodded; he was desperate to distract himself from the uncontrollable whirlwind in his mind. He hurried over to the armory vault across the room and yanked out a duffel bag, then started stuffing in as many guns as he could pack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harley, gather our old devotees as best you can and be ready in two hours. Tonight is our victory run.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker floored it, slamming his foot down into the gas pedal as Harley screamed with delight in the passenger’s seat. The armored vehicles behind them were struggling to keep up on their flight to the Gotham capitol building, which Joker intended to burn down in a show of dominance.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, baby, I missed this so much!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harley yelled, but Joker wasn’t paying attention. He was enraged and he needed release; he was confused and he needed violence to remind him that he was alive here and now in this moment. He carelessly ripped through the intersections until they’d finally arrived at the downtown government complex, where he braked hard enough to nearly give them whiplash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouchie,” Harley grumbled. Joker tossed her a gun and she nearly fumbled it, bursting into laughter when she was finally able to catch it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker kicked open his door and walked to the trunk. The familiar wails of police sirens were already echoing throughout the city, converging on their location. But he wasn’t worried. The more carnage there would be, the better. A glimmer caught his eye and he looked up, freezing when he noticed that the Bat signal was on. He knew it was only a memorial but for a moment he’d felt that glorious thrill, that rush of serotonin he always got when he knew that Batman was coming for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitter remembrance left a sharp tang of disappointment in his mouth and his whole mood plummeted. Suddenly, he barely even had the strength to pick up the assault rifle and all he wanted to do was lock himself in his bedroom, surrounded only by darkness and his prided collection of Batman vs Joker newspaper reports.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get it </span>
  <em>
    <span>together,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he growled at himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first police car skidded into the plaza and Joker whirled, riddling the car with bullets until he was satisfied that the inhabitants must be dead. His henchmen were unloading the explosives out of the armored vans with experienced swiftness, while others were setting up tripod machine guns to defend the arsonists and demolitionists as they worked. Harley skipped up beside him with her hammer and a gun, waiting patiently for his call. More and more police cars piled into the square and a helicopter could be heard moving in; Joker raised his hand to catch the attention of his head goons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raise some hell,” he snarled, and immediately the deafening sound of dozens of machine guns filled the air. The cops began their defense and Joker darted behind a van with Harley, waiting patiently for most of the first wave to be taken out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“HARLEY QUINN, SURRENDER OR YOUR SURVIVAL IS NOT GUARANTEED,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Commissioner Gordon’s voice echoed over the cacophony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker snickered and then broke into hearty guffaws of laughter; the old fuck was going to have a heart attack when he realized the truth. The din began to quiet down as many of the cops were annihilated, so Joker finally took his chance to announce his impossible return. He sauntered out from behind the van and rested the gun against his hip, firing wildly in the direction of Gordon’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, old friend!” Joker crooned, dropping into a bow. The firing from the police line faltered as the policemen were distracted by the figure whose death they had all been celebrating for the past few nights. “What a lovely night for a reunion, wouldn’t you agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shocked murmurs rippled through the ocean of police officers when Harley came walking up behind him and rested her hammer on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiya Gordo! Too bad your little Batbuddy can’t help you no more! Looks like you’re royally fucked!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the policemen were fleeing now, too terrified to face a man who had defied death even after his identity had been verified by a coroner. Gordon stayed silent and Joker was about to say something else when there was an explosion inside the Capitol, signaling that the goons were ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, would you look at that! There’s our dinner bell!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker slipped a detonator out of his pocket and thumbed it. His specialty workers had returned and were taking up their own guns to eradicate the rest of the cops.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“PLEASE…,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon pleaded, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“DON’T DO THIS.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker smashed his thumb down on the button. Harley jumped up and down next to him, screaming joyously as the explosives began their wave of destruction. Most of the cops had fled now and his henchmen were pouring past the police line, slaughtering any injured cops and chasing down the deserters. The flames behind him flickered in the bloody rainwater before him and Joker let the high of triumph bleed into his veins, until the Bat signal again caught his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A series of memories flashed through his mind: memories of Batman always sparing Joker’s life, despite how easy it would’ve been to just snap Joker’s skinny neck in his massive hands. Those hands had always been tender once the need for violence was gone. Memories of Batman dropping in at Arkham to ensure that Joker was being treated well, and having conversations with Joker about his treatments. Batman had never lost hope in the idea that Joker’s mind could be salvaged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman had believed in him. Batman had cared about him. And Batman was locked in Gotham’s morgue now, with a tag on his toe and a white sheet over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker doubled over and retched up nothing but bile. The world was spinning and he just couldn’t find his footing. He was too numb, he needed to feel something. Slowly, Joker forced himself to stand and looked up to see that four of his goons had pulled Gordon out of his car and were dragging him over to Joker and Harley. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was an opportunity to let out some rage; he’d always been jealous of Gordon, just like he’d been jealous of Catwoman or any other person that Batman had gotten close to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blowing Gordon’s brains out would provide some sorely needed satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FUCK YOU!!” Gordon screamed, his tearful gaze boring into Joker’s deadened eyes. “HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The accusation hit Joker like a sucker punch to the gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to kill him, fatso,” Joker snarled, his lean body snapping forward to backhand Gordon over the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon and the goons looked at him in shock. Joker raised the gun and fixed it between Gordon’s brows, locking his green eyes with Gordon’s blue ones before giving Gordon a fake, quivering grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any last words, old dog?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burn in hell,” Gordon grunted in defiance. He leaned forward to spit on Joker’s leg and Harley yelled in disgust, hopping forward to land a solid kick to Gordon’s teeth. Joker continued to aim the gun but suddenly he felt too weak to stand. All of his strength flooded out of him and into the asphalt beneath his feet. He couldn’t kill Gordon. There was no fucking point anymore. Killing Gordon wouldn’t get Batman’s attention because there was no Batman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing Joker remembered before his head hit the ground was Harley yelling his name in frightened surprise.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Joker woke up, he was laying in bed back at the headquarters. Someone had carefully undressed and bathed him, then put him in a plush green robe. He blinked up at the ceiling and turned his head. Harley was watching the news while sitting on the bed next to him, dressed in only a bra and panties. The Capitol was reduced to a pile of rubble and the newscasters were arguing about the impossibility of Joker’s resurrection, and what would happen now that Gotham was apparently ruled by the Prince. Harley felt him move and repositioned herself to face him; she was beaming and crying tears of joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Puddin’, we did it, I mean we really did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker just closed his eyes and rolled his head back up to look at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, what’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself all night, then ya passed out...I’m worried,” Harley whispered, scooting closer to him. Joker let his head roll back over to face her and had a sudden idea: perhaps sex would make him feel better. He reached out to stroke Harley’s breast through her bra and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She slipped out of the lingerie and eagerly moved closer, reclining next to him. Gently, she pushed her hand beneath the sheets and into his robe to rub his thigh. He tried his best to focus on her hand and the feel of her soft breast in his pale hand, and for a second it worked. She was tracing over his cock now and he felt himself responding, but then on the tv behind her head an image of Batman came up followed by a wounded Gordon vowing to end Joker’s reign of terror. He went soft and shoved Harley away, screaming as he grabbed a shot glass off his nightstand and chucked it at the tv. The glass shattered and Harley yelped, pulling away from him with a frightened look on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GET OUT!” Joker screamed. “GET! OUT!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley struggled off the bed and snatched up her pajamas before bolting out the door. Joker jumped out of the bed and began grabbing anything he could get his hands on, tearing and shattering and ripping his way through the room. After a minute or so his robe fell open and a shard of glass cut him from a window he’d punched through. Only then when he paused to look down at the cut did he notice that his chest was sporting a massive Y-shaped incision that had been sealed back up with stitches: an autopsy scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It finally became real in that moment. He had been brought back to life despite not deserving it by any means, but Batman, a paragon of justice, was still dead. Why? Who would make that kind of shit-for-brains decision? Who had interfered with fate and brought him back into this now miserable existence?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to find out if it was the last thing he did.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Revelations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Joker finally accomplishes something that he's wanted for years.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CHAPTER TW // MURDER</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Joker woke with a gasp as the sound of an explosion a few blocks away ripped him from his sleep. Irritated, he growled and stubbornly pushed his head back down into the pillow. He slipped a scarred hand up to rub his face, which somehow seemed paler than it ever had before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> As the days passed, time had lost all meaning and a heavy depression settled ever deeper into his bones. He stayed in his room, obsessively searching for any news relating to Batman’s funeral and drifting in and out of sleep. He'd tried to contact Constantine, but the man was exceptionally gifted at hiding and the only name that had turned up regarding his whereabouts was a woman named Zatanna, who was just as elusive. As his frustration grew, Joker had no desire to eat, no desire to shower, no desire to do anything but cling to any new information he could find and sleep to keep his darkest thoughts at bay. Yet no matter how much he tried to escape, there was still a darkness threatening to swallow him whole, and he could feel it lurking closer every time he woke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slid his hand over onto the nightstand and turned on the tv with the remote, sitting up with a hiss and squinting to focus his bleary eyes on the reporter. Bruce’s funeral was today and Joker had ordered the ceremony to remain untouched by his supporters. There had been more than a few confused grumblings but nobody dared to question him, not unless they wanted to be flayed alive and hung by their ankles from a light pole downtown. They all assumed it was because he had his own special plan for gatecrashing the scene, and they weren’t wrong, but they weren’t exactly right either. Joker glanced at the clock and cursed; he’d woken up far too late and now only had five minutes to get there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting out of bed was a process. He had to take it slow or he would black out from standing up too fast. Harley had attempted in vain to get him to eat more than toast, but he’d started locking her out of the bedroom because she was too much of a distraction. She was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud </span>
  </em>
  <span>and kept trying to cheer him up, except that he didn’t want to be cheered up. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be cheered up. God help him, he’d really tried to be happy the first few days. But the gnawing hunger for answers and the empty void left by Bruce’s death was a fast growing cancer that couldn’t be stopped no matter how many drugs he took or how much pleasure he found in wielding his new power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit,” Joker breathed as he finally eased himself away from the bed and over towards his dresser. He grabbed the first thing he could find and struggled to dress, nearly falling over while trying to button his vest. For the first time in years, he neglected to apply his lipstick and other makeup to go out; it just required more energy than he had. Eventually he was fully dressed and ready to go; he was pulling on his gloves when he noticed that an envelope had been slipped under the door. Baffled, he bent to pick it up and ripped open the top, wincing when he saw the contents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a gaudy pink valentine’s card, signed by Harley and sealed with a lipstick mark. She’d filled up the entire empty side of the card with an essay proclaiming her love for him and saying that she was here for him no matter what kind of depression he was going through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve been touching if he’d actually cared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were times when he felt something akin to love for her, but those moments were brief and after everything that happened, he’d simply lost interest. She was cloying and loud, the exact opposite of Batman’s stoic calmness. He’d come to the realization a while ago that he’d seduced her in a desperate, subconscious attempt to make himself stop thinking about his nemesis so much; it had been a vain attempt to ease the burning desire and satisfaction that consumed him every time the Bat had him pinned to the ground or sat across from Joker in his cell. Batman was always so different in those conversations: still guarded and enigmatic, but so gentle and caring (if one could even dare to call him that). Everyone knew that Joker was the only inmate Batman visited in Arkham on more than a weekly basis - other than Two-Face - and that fact had been a source of deep pride for Joker whenever he had to take on one of his rivals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker shuffled to the door and unlocked it, stumbling backwards when his foot landed on something soft and the soft thing yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jesus, </span>
  </em>
  <span>watch where yer goin’,” Harley groaned, rubbing the arm Joker had just stepped on and rolling off of her sleeping bag. Her mood quickly changed when she realized that he was actually leaving the room for the first time in a week. She scrambled up onto her feet to squeeze him into a rib-creaking hug, much to his dismay.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mistah J!!! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Are ya feelin’ any better? Did you see the card I left ya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker squirmed and she let him go, her smile faltering a tad when she saw the sour expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw it,” he abruptly confirmed before pushing past her towards the stairs. Harley didn’t follow him and he felt a strong sense of relief when she didn’t. She wasn’t stupid, she’d known all along that she was never Joker’s priority. But she had always tried to act as though she was, because it hurt too much to think about the fact that Joker would never love her back as much as she loved him. As he hurried down the stairs, Joker found himself wondering how long it would be before she finally left him. Not that he cared, it’s just that she would have to die if she tried to set out on her own. She knew too much about his inside operations and he couldn’t risk her using that against him for revenge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve been sunny outside if not for Gotham’s suffocating smog, which had been made so much worse thanks to the fires and explosions that were now raging across the city. Joker paused for a moment to stare up at the thwarted sun and felt sick to his stomach. He wondered if Batman preferred overcast or sunny days; during their conversations at Arkham, Joker had somehow forgotten to ask him even that most basic of questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two masked goons fell into step beside him as he returned his attention to the road and began walking towards the Gotham Cemetery. The streets were full of people who were heading there too; it was going to be one of the most crowded funerals in this city’s history. Some of the mourners saw him and ran, others tried to attack him only to be shot down, and the rest simply walked with him, only communicating their rage and hatred through furtive glances and mumbled diatribes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a long walk, but he still arrived late. Joker kept his distance from the burial ground and only watched from afar as Bruce’s family and immediate friends stood dejected and hopeless around the entrance to the Wayne crypt. A nervous priest read from the Bible; they were trying to make it as fast as possible to decrease the chances of a strike by Joker. Joker scanned the honored guests and bared his teeth when he came across one of them in particular: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Selina Kyle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If there was anyone Joker actually hated in this city, it was that bitch. All of Joker’s people had been on the lookout for her, but she’d been smart and hadn’t shown her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker fought the impulse to go after her and instead focused on the fact that Bruce’s casket was being moved into the crypt to be laid to rest in Bruce’s designated space. Watching it was surreal, and Joker finally felt the searing anguish he’d been waiting for this whole time come burning through his chest. He gasped and his bodyguards studied him with vigilant curiosity. The pain was unbearable, but thankfully no tears came; Joker couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, and in all honesty he didn’t even think he was capable of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was done, the invited guests quickly dispersed. Nobody trusted Joker to not show up and pull something, and they were right not to. As Selina turned to leave, she unintentionally caught Joker’s eye. The contact only lasted a second and then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd that was now scattering since someone had screamed out that Joker was there. Joker ignored the chaos and walked towards the crypt, dismissing his bodyguards as he walked inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire building was carved from marble, a burial fitting for the greatest son of Gotham. Hundreds of bouquets were piled around the spacious room, as were many homemade Batman masks left by those who preferred to honor Bruce’s vigilante identity. Joker caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head; an old man was standing by the wall of graves, holding a gun in Joker’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to admire your handiwork?” the man hissed. He had a British accent; Joker vaguely remembered that Bruce had a British butler. Harley had nursed a sexual crush on Bruce and had followed his life in the tabloids, filling Joker in on everything whether he wanted to hear it or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker remained silent and waited, but Alfred didn’t shoot. Joker was surprised at the hesitation until he heard a faint grunt behind him and realized a second too late that Alfred had served as a distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DIE!” Selina roared behind him before a bright searing pain exploded in Joker’s back; he’d been stabbed. He tried to lurch forward but Selina wrapped her arm around his neck to keep him from escaping. Joker snarled and tried to bite at her arm but it was covered in leather; she must’ve changed into her suit after escaping into the crowd. Joker had to hand it to her, trying to kill a man who’d been resurrected from the dead was a bold move, since many people now believed that Joker was the devil himself and therefore undefeatable.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m going to cut off your balls and make you eat them,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she hissed in his ear before shoving him forward. Joker stumbled and tripped over a bouquet of forget-me-nots, crashing face-down into the floor and slamming his angular cheek into the cold marble. “I’d feed your cock to my cats too but I fear it would poison them. It’s a wonder that slut Harley hasn’t caught some terminal disease from sleeping with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Selina stepped forward and spat on him. Joker flinched but stayed down; he was too exhausted to fight. After all, he had no real reason to stay alive anymore. Selina seemed surprised at his lack of resistance but quickly recovered. She kicked him in the wound she’d created then grabbed him by the shoulder, rolling him over onto his back so she could execute her plan. Alfred was closer now, appearing to be half repulsed but half satisfied by what was happening. Then again, his repulsion was likely just based on the fact that he was looking at Joker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you have to say for yourself?” Selina demanded before slamming her heeled boot down onto his shin. It didn't break his leg, but it hurt like a motherfucker. Joker cried out and gritted his teeth, managing a chuckle after struggling to lift his head and spotting Harley’s silhouette in the doorway. He knew she’d come after him; she always did, like a lost puppy he couldn’t get rid of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>like to know,” he mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley’s hammer cracked down onto Selina’s skull and sent her staggering into Alfred, who screamed in horror before falling over with Selina on top of him. Joker rolled over and pushed himself up, then kicked away the gun that had fallen out of Alfred’s hand. He checked the stab wound Selina had inflicted but she’d missed her mark - his liver - and the bleeding wasn’t life threatening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like kitty’s on her last life,” Harley teased with a vindictive laugh. She raised her hammer and brought it smashing down onto Selina’s leg, filling the room with a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then repeating the blow on her other leg. Selina weakly screamed and Alfred cringed from against the wall of crypts where he'd dragged himself, with a traumatized look on his face. Joker felt a pang at the old man’s suffering; this man wasn't involved in a way that Joker cared about, he wasn’t a rival to Joker in the way that Selina had been. There was no reason to hurt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get him out of here,” Joker said, waving his hand dismissively towards the man. “He doesn’t need to see this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley raised her brows and looked extremely taken aback at this second display of mercy, but she obeyed. She dragged Alfred up onto his feet and escorted him out, leaving Selina alone with Joker. Selina was sobbing now, slumped onto her side and looking just as defeated as Joker felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I hate you,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she hitched out. “You ruined everything, you always did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker barked out an amused laugh and rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, you’re the one he bought filet mignon for and fucked on velvet sheets. You're the one who ruined it for ME.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Selina looked taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the only one who loved the Bat, you stupid bimbo,” Joker growled. He pulled open his jacket to retrieve his switchblade while Selina struggled with the explanation as to why Joker always hated her so much. A look of disgust spread across her face as Joker opened the knife and advanced towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t love him, you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him. If you loved him you wouldn’t have fucking murdered him!” she yelled, weakly jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to!” Joker bellowed, finally snapping in the face of her judgement. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>moved, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wasn’t aiming for his liver but he fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>moved! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I didn’t expect him to move to the left of where I was aiming!” he screamed, nearly hysterical. “I tried to hold onto him in the water but I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything because it was too cold and his suit was too </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn </span>
  </em>
  <span>slippery!!!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Selina had stopped crying and was staring at him as though he’d just smacked her across the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why? Why did you always fight him? Why couldn’t you just let him go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know why. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We both knew him better than anyone else. He cared. He was the only one who really, truly gave a shit about people like us. But if I ever let myself get better...he would have stopped caring. I would just be another nobody, just a faceless Gothamite if I didn’t keep his attention. It was the only way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Selina turned her face away and coughed; her head was bleeding and it wasn’t an insubstantial amount of blood. She was quickly losing strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking insane,” she whispered. “He would have cared. You...he was always so worried about you. Whenever you seemed to make progress, he was happy. Whenever you got worse or escaped Arkham, he ghosted me and isolated himself. I was always so jealous of you, you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his head and I just couldn’t get you out no matter how hard I tried. And for the record....he never said he loved me, so we're both....losers here.......”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker stood over her, silent for a moment as he took in her confession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk him not caring,” he finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Selina didn’t respond; she was convulsing, dying from Harley’s blow to her head. Joker kneeled to roll her head back towards him and her eyes were dead, her mouth slack against his hand. To ensure that it was permanent, Joker dragged the switchblade across her throat in one fluid move then let her head fall back. He wished he could feel satisfaction as he watched the sanguine waterfall paint the floor, but he didn’t; Selina’s death didn’t do anything if Batman was dead. There was no point to make anymore, no more reason to fight for Batman’s attention. Joker stood and put his switchblade back into his pocket before looking at Bruce’s tomb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll find you, somehow,” he promised before turning to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harley stood in the doorway of the crypt. Her makeup was everywhere and she’d clearly heard everything. Instead of saying anything she walked away. Joker watched but didn’t follow her; he had a much more important matter to settle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time to get some real answers out of Constantine.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I drew inspiration from the Wedding comic series for this chapter bc I love the Catwoman and Joker fight in it, and how jealous Joker is of her.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Answers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>CHAPTER TW // MURDER , SUICIDAL IDEATION</p><p>Joker finally learns what happened to him, and more importantly what happened to his darling.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Been a while since the last chapter, sorry to keep you waiting! Writer's block plus a crappy attention span is a hell of a doozy haha</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The Cavern</span>
  </em>
  <span>; that was the location that had popped up most often during Joker’s slow investigation into Zatanna and Constantine. Joker had heard of the place a couple times and knew that it was supposedly a hotbed of shady magical dealings, but since he was never interested in magic (frankly, he found it to be rather boring and unreliable), he’d never bothered to delve deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his driver parked in front of the seedy bar, Joker gave the glowing red sign an unimpressed sneer. The place was a dump, even by Joker’s standards, and he wasn’t exactly the best at picking up after himself. After all, criminal masterminds such as himself usually had far more important things to worry about than a few shirts on the floor or old takeout containers. Despite the fact that the place was in need of a hose-down, it appeared relatively untouched by the anarchic destruction that had plagued most of the other buildings in the city. It was likely protected by some sort of spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well get on with it,” Joker muttered. He reached over to grab the revolver that he’d tossed onto the other passenger seat. Something crinkled as his hand brushed it; he glanced over to notice the half empty bag of cheap cookies that one of his goons had fetched for him when he’d ordered the man to get him something to eat. Inwardly, he gagged; he still didn’t have an appetite, but it was critical that he kept eating </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he couldn’t risk passing out again in the middle of something important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker stuffed the gun into the inner pocket of his velvet jacket and snatched up the bag of jerky before opening the door and stepping out onto the cracked sidewalk. His bodyguards instantly followed suit, checking the area for any visible threats before scoping out the windows of the nearest office buildings, just in case. One of the goons opened the door of the bar and poked her head inside as Joker re-opened the bag and placed a cookie on his tongue. He didn’t instantly feel the urge to vomit, which was an improvement. Finally having a lead seemed to have calmed his nerves just enough to allow him to eat in peace again, even if he didn’t want to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anybody moves, you’re dead!” a goon called after kicking open the double doors to the tavern. She waved her automatic rifle into the room and beckoned for Joker to follow her inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing that Joker noticed was the heavy stink of stale tobacco and weed, then came the undeniable aroma of alcohol. There was something else too, something sweeter, likely incense judging by the thin thread of smoke trailing up to the ceiling from behind the bar. The place was empty save for some particularly rough looking individuals, who all turned to identify the source of this rude interruption from their busy day of drowning their livers. Even in the dim light, Joker was still clearly recognizable by the rich purple and green of his outfit, and the flash of pale wrist that was exposed as he reached up to rub his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you like, it’s on the house,” the bartender called after realizing who he was. Her gaze was defiant, but not so defiant as to send a message of disrespect. Joker couldn’t help but smile; he felt himself becoming giddy as he soaked in the fear that even Gotham’s supernatural beings felt in his presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, how kind of you,” Joker said, advancing into the room. His smile widened into a grin as he came closer to the bar. The bartender’s face paled as she suddenly lost her nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want any trouble,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, nobody ever wants trouble, do they? Such a boring way to live life, if you ask me. How about a game of twenty questions, what do you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker slipped a stool out from beneath the bar’s ledge and eased onto it, scooting uncomfortably close to the nervous, unwashed man on the stool next to him. In one smooth move Joker had the revolver out of his coat pocket and on the stained wood in front of him. The message was clear, as it always was: play or die, perhaps even play </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> die. Either way, to not play would be suicide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who would like to go first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The patrons farthest away from Joker cringed even deeper into the shadows to avoid attracting his attention while the nervous man and the bartender blinked at one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Mike. I’ll do it,” the bartender offered, triggering an enthusiastic and grateful nod from the man. Joker cleared his throat and leaned forward, placing his boney elbows on the bar and locking his fingers beneath his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A volunteer, how perfect! What’s your name, sweetheart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michelle,” she muttered, picking up another glass and wiping it down to avoid looking directly at Joker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, you know my name and now I know yours, that practically makes us friends in my book. And friends don’t keep secrets from each other, right Michelle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” she mumbled, glancing up at him and wincing when he grinned wider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, friend, I need you to tell me about a pretty little magician. Black hair, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice legs, and has probably been around with a blonde boy toy. She’s got a funny name, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zatara Zatanna</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ring any bells?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle was silent for a few moments; a moment too long for Joker’s threadbare patience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No secrets between friends,” Joker hissed, snatching up the gun and holding it to Mike’s temple. “You better think real hard with that pretty little brain before his ends up all over your floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s enough, mate,” a familiar voice echoed from the back of the room. Joker turned, miffed at being interrupted but pleased that Constantine’s conscience had driven him to make himself known before Joker had even broken a sweat. Constantine was leaning against the doorway of a hall that led back into the tavern’s private rooms, lighting a cigarette and looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else but here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been quite rude, Johnny Boy,” Joker pouted. He pushed himself off of the stool and began walking towards the other man. “Are you finally ready to help me solve this mystery that plagues me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t really have a choice, do I? You’d blow up a city block every night until I gave you what you wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I’d prefer to </span>
  <em>
    <span>gas </span>
  </em>
  <span>a city block, but yes, you know me so well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Constantine pulled a face and ducked back into the hallway as Joker pocketed his gun and followed. The smell of alcohol was even stronger back here, wafting beneath the black velvet curtains of the private rooms and clinging to Joker’s clothes. Constantine stopped at one of the rooms and pulled open the curtain, beckoning Joker inside. Joker hesitated; there was no going back now. What would he do if he learned that there was nothing he could do to fix this situation? Not that it really mattered. If he couldn’t get Bats back he’d already decided to eat a bullet, since there was no point without Batman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker stepped into the room. It was small and stuffy, occupied only by a rickety table and Zatanna. She seemed to cringe inwardly when she saw him, but she hid the instinct well, instead fixing him with an uncomfortable gaze that felt as though she were probing him from the inside out. You couldn’t hide anything from that gaze; your power was null and void in her presence. And if there was anything Joker hated, it was feeling as though he wasn’t the most powerful person in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for you?” Zatanna greeted. Constantine closed the curtain and sat next to her while Joker took his own seat across from them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should think it would be obvious, dear,” Joker scoffed. “I’d love to know exactly what happened to Batman and me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zatanna watched him for a few moments before nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right. I don’t know all of the specifics, such as how Bruce Wayne became involved with the Enchantress,” she began. “But I do know that she’s been feeding off of him, trailing him for upwards of a decade. I could see her all over him, trailing pain and suffering behind her, the worst kind of paras-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that have to do with me?” Joker interrupted. He didn’t need history, he needed to know how to fix the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s just it. Somehow, she transferred from him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>after Bruce died. She’s here with us now, she just doesn’t want to be perceived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and he resisted the urge to glance behind himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...she saw an opportunity,” Constantine answered after Zatanna glanced at him. “Bruce was stuck in some sort of purgatory; Enchantress wouldn’t allow him to die because she knew she could get a little more out of him if she held him in limbo. I tried to help, but she kept interfering. In the end, Bruce ended up...taking your place. He said that he wished you were still alive and it seems like Enchantress made an unfair exchange: Bruce went to Hell and you came back from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker sat in stunned silence and processed Constantine’s story. Batman had actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>wished </span>
  </em>
  <span>him back to life? He couldn’t have known what the consequence would be, but still, Batman had actually mourned his death instead of celebrating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker didn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to speak to her,” Joker blurted out, desperation coloring his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zatanna fixed him with a quizzical frown while Constantine shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, mate, trust me, you really don’t want that. She’s fickle ‘n mean - no offense intended, Ms. Enchantress,” Constantine snorted. “Then again...the pain and chaos coming off you is a real buffet for her. She may be more patient with ya than she’d be with the average bloke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care what kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>mood </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’s in, I demand to speak with her,” Joker snarled. “And this young lady is going to help me get what I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s too much for me, I don’t-” Zatanna began to protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Constantine held up a silencing hand; they both knew there was too much at stake to deny Joker’s wish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zatanna sighed and hung her head, then took out a pack of what Joker thought were playing cards from the pocket of her vest. She opened the box to slide them out and upon closer inspection, Joker realized it was a tarot deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enchantress is fully in control of this session. If she wants to speak with you, she’ll use me as a conduit since she prefers human hosts. These cards enable me to establish a connection with clients; pick one and we’ll see how this unfolds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zatanna shuffled the deck and randomly placed three cards facedown on the threadbare tablecloth. Joker realized then just how much he was sweating, he could swear the room was much hotter than it had been just two minutes ago. He stared at the cards and felt a sudden, intense urge to pick up the middle one, somehow he knew that this was the card he needed to pick up. Delicately, he reached across the table and flipped the card over. He was able to glimpse that the card read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death </span>
  </em>
  <span>before he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach and realized he was no longer in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in a morgue.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Speak,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>a voice commanded. It somehow carried both the high notes of a lilting soprano and the deep, smooth rumble of a bass, but despite its beauty the voice also reeked of death and destruction. It permeated the room and threatened to overwhelm all of Joker’s senses; he could even taste the rot in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, bring Batman back!” he begged. There was no point in keeping up appearances now. He wasn’t used to groveling but for this, he would make any exception.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Enchantress hissed. His vision swirled and suddenly he was staring into her face, which was twisted into an expression of irritated impatience. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dead is dead, living is living, this be the way. Keep the balance.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But then how did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>this?? Why did you do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Equal for equal, only way. Chaos and death, you feed, like he.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was simple enough. Joker only had to find his equal...but who other than Batman was his equal now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What must I do to get him back?” Joker’s voice trembled; he had to do this, he couldn’t even bear the thought of killing himself without Bats by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enchantress seemed taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“See now, hate is love and love is hate. Hear now: Gotham is equal. All kill, one innocent by own hands. Feed, he return.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she had uttered the final word, Joker blacked out and woke up seconds later in his seat back at The Cavern. Zatanna screamed; she knew what he was going to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“KILL HIM, JOHN!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Constantine struggled to pull his gun out of his coat pocket, but Joker was faster. He tossed the bag of cookies in his pocket at Constantine’s face to give himself more time, then he pulled his gun and shot Zatanna in the chest. She fell forward and Joker turned his gun on the shocked man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the help, loverboy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bullet went clean through Constantine’s forehead. He would revive himself somehow, but at least this would slow him down to prevent him from warning the city. Joker kicked himself away from the table and tumbled through the doorway, huffing breathlessly back up onto his feet and running into the common room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir?” a goon asked, giving him a confused frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bombs, gas, electrical plants, get everything ready to blow, quickly. I want this whole damn town ready for annihilation in under two hours. I will kill every last one of you if you fail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The goons stood frozen for a moment but then they burst into a frenzy of action, following him out of the doors and into the doomed city. Finally, Gotham would see its end, going down with both its greatest protector and its greatest enemy. Perhaps that was a mercy, to die quickly instead of lingering like this, trapped beneath Joker’s thumb with every exit out of the city blocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joker felt no remorse for what he had planned. As he got back into the car, all he felt was relief and the most intense happiness he’d ever experienced in his wretched life. He felt a foreign sensation on his cheek and reached up to swipe at it with a gloved finger, after which he realized that it was a tear. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried, but he was satisfied by the fact that if he must cry, then it would be because of his darling. Batman would hate him for what he was going to do, but that changed nothing. Their hate was love, and the more Batman hated Joker, the more he couldn’t help but love him. Even if he killed Joker in his anger, it would be what Joker wanted. His last moments spent being Batman’s only focus, meaning everything to him, if just for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Joker was getting ahead of himself. It was time to prepare for his groom’s homecoming.</span>
</p>
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